Organized Chaos
by westsiderats
Summary: Have you ever wondered what would happen if all the fandoms got drunk at a party? So did we. And this is our hypothesis. Rated PG-13 for language and alochol content. (How else are they supposed to get drunk?)


A/N: Yes, we meant to misspell prologue. Just read, and all will be understood—somewhat….

* * *

Trem and Gylzgurl were sitting in front of the computer one day, looking at pictures of vampire frogs, and other such strange things.

Suddenly, a picture of someone's party showed up on Google. Both Trem and Gylzgurl wondered what it had to do with vampire frogs at all. Or even reptiles, for that matter. Gylzgurl and Trem looked at each other, very confused. Minutes passed by.

Then, the lightbulb that changed their whole afternoon appeared over their heads simultaneously.

"PARTY!" they yelled, making Kiki jump, at the other end of the hallway. She walked into the room to see Trem and Gylzgurl high-fiving each other, and squealing excitedly. She rolled her eyes, and left the room again, muttering,

"Here we go again…"

—Three days later—

"Okay, that takes care of the invitations," Trem said, shoving the last empty box back into the car.

"Do you think they'll mind that we stuffed the mailbox so full?" Gylzgurl asked. Trem looked back at the small blue box, overflowing with letters. Some had already fallen out, and were blowing down the street.

"No, I think we're fine. I mean, it's so boring around here anyway—no one does anything."

Suddenly, the mailbox grunted, and shifted its legs a little, straining against the bolts holding it to the pavement. Trem raised an eyebrow at it.

"…did I just see that?" Gylzgurl asked.

"I don't know," Trem replied, "But I think our invitations are safe…"

"Good point." Gylzgurl said. Trem shut the trunk of the car, and walked around to get into the passenger's seat. Gylzgurl turned the car on again, and took one last look into the rearview mirror.

She decided to ignore the roar the mailbox was giving to a small, unfortunate poodle that had almost marked it. That is, until the poodle snarled back at the mailbox, arching its back and growing fangs right in front of her eyes.

"Oh, my…."

"What?" Trem asked, buckling her seatbelt.

"Look back," Gylzgurl said. Trem turned around, and gasped.

"It's a WEREPOODLE!" She twisted back around and yelled, "STEP ON IT!"

Gylzgurl attempted to speed away just like in the movies, but ended up reversing the car instead. Terrified, they both heard a nasty BUMP as they passed the mailbox. Gylzgurl took her foot off the pedal, and Trem craned her head out the window.

"Eew." Was all she said. The mailbox grunted, satisfied.

"Do I want to look?" Gylzgurl asked, hands over her eyes.

"If you want to see green blood…" Trem said. Gylzgurl peeked through her fingers. Once she had registered the carnage in front of her, she lowered her hands, eyes wide in awe.

"Whoa…it's the same shade as my truck!"

Trem and Gylzgurl looked at each other.

"Now THAT'S lucky," Trem said.

"No kidding," Gylzgurl replied. She put her foot down on the right pedal this time, and they drove off to let the mailman wrestle with the mailbox, when he came.

After a few minutes, when they had gotten on the highway, Trem voiced what had been running through both their minds.

"Now I know why everyone uses e-mail."

—later—

"Okay," Trem said, "What's next?"

"Decorations," Gylzgurl replied, pulling into the next parking lot. Trem looked up at the store looming in front of them: The Home Depot.

"….Giles?" Trem asked, looking over at her friend, "What decorations are we getting?"

"Trash cans," Gylzgurl said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"…Huh?" Trem asked blankly.

"What else are we going to sit on?" Gylzgurl said, getting out of the car. Trem sighed, and followed, rolling her eyes.

"If this is going to be like the time you decided to decorate your room with toilet seats nailed to the wall…we're leaving right now."

Gylzgurl turned around, giving Trem a wide smile.

"Don't worry! Only trash cans!"

"What are we going to put on the walls, then?" Trem asked, catching up with Gylzgurl.

"I don't know," Gylzgurl replied, as they walked into the store. "I was thinking of two by fours…"

Trem slapped her palm to her forehead and groaned.

"We're leaving after the trash cans," she said.

"But—"

"NO TWO BY FOURS!" Trem shouted sternly, making the cashier nearest to them give Trem a strange look. Trem ignored him, and proceeded to push Gylzgurl towards the trash can aisle…wherever that might be.

Eventually they found it, right next to the chandeliers and floor lamps. Gylzgurl stared up at the display, eyes glittering from the light of the chandeliers.

"Pretty….shiny….oooh…'

"GARBAGE CANS!" Trem yelled again, slapping Gylzgurl on the arm. Gylzgurl jumped and blinked, coming out of her trance.

"Besides, you already have enough chandeliers."

"But not in the bathroom!" Gylzgurl protested. "Ow!" she added, as she got thapped in the back of the head by Trem.

"Garbage cans," she said again, taking Gylzgurl by the shoulders and turning her towards the array of garbage cans. Finally, Gylzgurl seemed to focus on what she had come to do, and Trem breathed a sigh of relief. However, this was short-lived.

"Hey, Trem?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think people would like to sit on the ones with the round tops or the flat ones?"

Trem just stared at Gylzgurl. Apparently she was being serious—she was giving Trem that serious expression, anyway…

"I don't know," Trem replied. "You figure it out."

However, Gylzgurl didn't catch on to the sarcasm; they ended up walking out of the Home Depot with enough trash cans to furnish an amusement park quite nicely. Half were round tops, and half were flat tops; Gylzgurl couldn't quite decide.

"Okay," Trem said, as they strapped the last of the garbage cans into the bed of the truck, "We have seats. Now we're going to get something for the walls that isn't long and made of wood."

"Ooh!" Gylzgurl gasped, her eyes lighting up again.

"…What?" Trem asked apprehensively. The glittering eyes were never a good sign…

"We could use HEDGEHOGS!" Gylzgurl exclaimed, jumping excitedly.

"….right…" Trem said, giving Gylzgurl a blank stare. Then, she got an idea.

"I know where we could find plenty of those," Trem said, trying to match Gylzgurl's excited expression.

"Where?"

"Follow me," Trem replied, grabbing her friend's arm and dragging her to the other end of the parking lot. Gylzgurl followed silently, looking ahead to where Trem was taking her. A large store loomed in front of them, and in large, red letters were the words, Party City.

"I didn't know they had hedgehogs…" Gylzgurl said aloud.

"They have proper decorations," Trem replied.

"…are you saying hedgehogs aren't proper decorations?" Gylzgurl asked accusingly.

"Not at all," Trem said, "But, um…we need some variation on the theme. Right now, we seem to have a road kill theme going…"

"What's wrong with that?" Gylzgurl asked, as she was whisked through the front doors of Party City.

"It's not exactly…sanitary," Trem said. "If you get what I mean."

"Not really," Gylzgurl said. Trem rolled her eyes again. She wondered how many times she was going to be doing that, before this thing was over with. Darn vampire frog image searches…

"OOH!" Gylzgurl squealed, suddenly running away.

"Huh!" Trem watched as Gylzgurl bolted off down the costume aisle. Trem groaned, and followed after, very apprehensive indeed.

"What did you find?" Trem asked down the aisle.

No one responded.

"…Giles?" Trem asked. Nothing except the echo of her own voice came back to her. Then—

"AAGH!" Trem yelled, as she was run over by a red and gold blur—

"OW!" something stabbed her in the side, and she rolled over, yanking it out in the process.

"Hey!" she heard someone say, "You're going to rip his fang out!"

"WHAT!" Trem shouted, shoving the red and gold thing away. "What _is_ that!" Out of the heap on the floor, Trem saw Gylzgurl's head pop out. She looked very annoyed.

"It's a dragon! Can't you _tell_?"

Trem blinked, as Gylzgurl straightened out the heap until it resembled a long Chinese dragon, complete with armholes and one fang hanging, partially dislodged, off to the side.

"…Why did you attack me with it?" Trem asked.

"For good luck!" Gylzgurl replied brightly, stepping the rest of the way out of it.

"…Since when was it for good luck?"

"Since the Chinese said so," Gylzgurl replied, "Duh!"

Trem just nodded silently, and grabbed Gylzgurl's arm again.

"Let's get some streamers," Trem said.

"But—"

"And we're not using snakes this time," Trem interrupted.

"But it was _fun_ when they tried to bite everyone!"

"You never said you were going to use live ones! I thought you'd use the little wiggly rubber ones!"

"You never asked!" Gylzgurl retorted. Trem rolled her eyes—_again_.

When they got to the streamers aisle, they both stared at the wide rainbow of colored rolls of crepe paper lined up before them.

"This is boring," Gylzgurl said, crossing her arms, "They don't even have worms."

"We're NOT using WORMS," Trem said, "We're trying to stay away from the road kill theme, remember?"

"That's what you think," Gylzgurl muttered.

"I heard that!" Trem muttered back. "And we're going to get regular, HARMLESS paper streamers, whether you like it or not. And that's final."

Gylzgurl spent the rest of the errand sulking in the middle of the aisle, while Trem picked out a harmless, boring array of party decorations. Unfortunately for Trem, she did not notice Gylzgurl purchasing the dragon. She didn't even notice the big white bag behind Gylzgurl's back as they walked out of the store. But that could have been from her own armload of bags, as they cut off most of her peripheral vision. This also made braving the dangers of the parking lot a much more exciting experience.

Trem stumbled back into the passenger's seat of the truck, eyes wide.

"I didn't know my life could flash before my eyes that fast!" she exclaimed, trying to regain her breath.

"Maybe because it's boring," Gylzgurl replied.

"Just because I get nonviolent streamers does NOT mean my life is BORING!" Trem retorted. "Geez!"

"Uh-huh," Gylzgurl replied, sounding thoroughly unconvinced. "That's why you get excited over petri dishes growing things."

"Hey! Bacteria are interesting! You can isolate their plasmids and clone things and—"

Gylzgurl put a hand over Trem's mouth, as she had learned that that was the only way to effectively stop her from going on for hours about whatever experiments she had going on in the secret lair.

Because, of course, they had a secret lair. Where else could they do their evil plotting and their party hosting?

—later—

Somehow they got to the grocery store without any of the trash cans falling off—though they did get some honks and very obscene hand gestures from the drivers around them. When they pulled into the parking lot, they had to use two parking spaces because of their wide load; it spilled over on both sides, straining against the strings holding it all together.

"You know," Trem said, looking at their cargo, "We probably should have used rope."

Gylzgurl shrugged, making sure the car doors were locked. "It's still up, right?"

"Yeah," Trem said, walking up to the grocery store. "I guess you're right."

Neither of them heard the slight popping noise, as two of the strings snapped in two.

Instead, Trem turned to Gylzgurl as they waited for a line of cars to drive by the front of the store.  
"And no cheese whiz this time," she said.

"But—"

"That's all we had at the last party I had you plan," Trem said, "Everyone got sick!"

"I thought that was from that Freud water you gave them," Gylzgurl said.

"Was not!"

Gylzgurl rolled her eyes, and walked across the way to enter the store.

"Okay, maybe it was," Trem said, catching up. "But we're still getting something different."

"Like what?" Gylzgurl asked. Trem shrugged.

"Chips?"

…

Half an hour later, Trem and Gylzgurl were still in the chip aisle, staring at the array of flavors and brands. Trem slowly reached up to grab a bag of cheddar and sour cream Lay's, and put them in the cart.

"Okay," Trem said, "That's one bag."

"How many do we need?" Gylzgurl asked. "There's going to be a lot of people…"

"I'd say about four," Trem said. Then, her eyes widened.

"We're going to be here forever…"

"Don't worry—this place is open 24 hours," Gylzgurl replied, looking at the chips again. "I don't' know how people can be so fast at picking chips…there are so many different choices!"

"I don't' know how they do it, either," Trem agreed. "Especially when you have the weird ones to chose from, like Ketchup and egg roll…"

"Egg roll? Where?" Gylzgurl asked, scanning the chips again.

…

Once they had gotten their strange assortment of chips, they headed over to the drinks aisle. They both agreed on punch.

"You figure out how much we need," Gylzgurl said suddenly, "I'm going to go check something."

"All right," Trem said, as she started counting off on her fingers just how many people they had invited. It took a while; she had to take off both her shoes.

Meanwhile, Gylzgurl wandered around the rest of the store, scanning over what there was that Trem would not be happy about seeing at a party. She grinned maliciously as her eyes fell on a little end cap that held such things as Go-Dirt, and Macaroni for Geese, and a large package of Sludge Shoppe's Industrial Waste-Filled cookies. What these were doing in a grocery store, she had no idea—but she wasn't complaining….

She spotted some more, tamer things on her way back up the aisle, including a very wide selection of Fried Green Peas, of all different flavors.

"I'll have to come to this store more often," she thought to herself, as she filled her hand basket with an odd assortment of containers. She proceeded to the check-out, making sure she was in a spot where Term couldn't see the basket.

Finally, Trem was done getting the right amount of punch. She put her shoes and socks back on, ignoring again the strange stares she was getting from people, and proceeded to the check out. Gylzgurl came up and helped her with the groceries, and they made it back to the truck in one piece—much to Trem's surprise.

"Okay—that's two times today my life has flashed before my eyes," She said, trying some grocery bags to the handles of the garbage cans.

"Was it still boring?" Gylzgurl asked, from the top of the mountain of tied down garbage cans.

"NO!" Trem retorted, tying some more bags on. She stepped back and looked at their load.

"I think that's everything," Trem said. She looked up at where Gylzgurl had disappeared amongst the garbage cans.

"Hello?"

Nothing but an echo answered her. Uh-oh…

THUMP!

"AGH!" Trem yelled, as she fell to the ground.

"Whee!" Gylzgurl said from on top of Trem. She hopped up, laughing. "That was fun!"

"You used me as a _landing pad_!" Trem exclaimed, rolling onto her back. "Ow…"

"How else was I supposed to break my fall?" Gylzgurl said.

"There's a cart right there!" Trem groaned, pointing to the now empty grocery cart.

"I would have rolled away!" Gylzgurl said. "Then you'd have to get me."

"…good point," Trem replied wearily. "Ugh…" She pulled herself up, and crawled into the passenger's seat of the truck. Gylzgurl hopped into the driver's seat, much more bouncy than she had been before the jump. Trem rolled her eyes again, and watched the obscene, honking cars go by all the way home.

…

Once they were back at Trem's, they parked in three parking spaces (the groceries had added a little more width to their load), and walked in with some groceries in hand—the ones they could reach. Trem unlocked the door, and opened it. They set their groceries down, and were about to go back to get more when Trem spotted something strange on the counter; a line of five coffee cups, all stained with the remnants of the caffenated liquid.

"Giles?" Trem asked. Gylzgurl poked her head in the door.

"Yes?"

"…How many cups of coffee did you have this morning?"

Gylzgurl's eyes traveled to the counter, then widened.

"Um…" she looked back at Trem, "Only five…?"

"Giles…"

"Okay! I had ten!" Gylzgurl confessed. "It's so good! I can't help it!"

Normally, Trem would have been a little more irked at this; after all, Gylzgurl was extremely sensitive to caffeine, and did not take too well to having a lot of it going through her system. Unfortunately, she was addicted—severely…

However, Trem was still too achy from the body slam she had gotten in the parking lot to care that much anymore. She was wondering about more important things; like if her organs were damaged at all…

"No wonder you were so hyper…" Was all she said. Gylzgurl paused, amazed that Trem didn't lecture her—again. Still, she wasn't complaining. She walked back out the door, and to the car to unhook more groceries from the garbage can handles.

* * *

A/N: We KNOW there's no Harry Potter in here: he's going to be invited to the party, along with a TON of other characters from all different fandoms.

THEN things will get interesting…hehehe.


End file.
